


Alternian Reversal

by NonPlayerCharacter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonPlayerCharacter/pseuds/NonPlayerCharacter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ships come, as they come every sweep, to gather the next generation into the vast military machine that is the Alternian Empire. They may be a few perigees early, but how better to keep the new recruits on their toes?</p><p>Except that they’re too late, anyway. The Empire is dead and broken, and the only question now is what the victors will do with what’s left over now that it’s gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Allow me to preface this with the following: this is neither a "Humanity, fuck yeah!" nor a "Humanity is terrible!" piece. Rather, it stemmed from analysis of the actual technological level portrayed during Hivebent and the more recent revelations about the Sufferer's revolution: the Alternian Empire, however massive and ancient, is also horribly stagnant and poorly constructed to the point that its elite troops are armed with iron-age weaponry and even the most powerful, impressive ship in their fleet (that is, the Empress's) is at least thousands of years old.
> 
> That, and I just wanted to do something where the Trolls were on the receiving end of a human invasion.
> 
> I plan on getting around to all of the trolls (and the kids, too), given enough time, and I'll add them accordingly. Likewise, the rating may increase as things carry on, but I'll give warnings, should that occur.
> 
> Lastly, a massive shout out to Ether for beta reading like a boss, digging me out of a few narrative sand traps, generally being excellent and generally making this possible in the first place.
> 
> Warnings, thus far, for some ableist and/or generally crude language.

**> Be the mutant.**

Oh jeeze, which one? Given the freakishly unpredictable nature of troll biology, you’re sorta spoiled for choice. Well, let’s just give this guy a try and hope he’s the one you want.

You are now KARKAT VANTAS and you are TERRIFIED and/or FURIOUS.

Upon stepping outside of your hive about ten seconds ago, you saw the ships. At first, it surprised you that you could see them, all the way up there in orbit. But then you realized that, duh, of course they’d be really big: they’re going to be carrying tens, if not hundreds, of millions of trolls off to various training sites across the empire.

You know (or, sorry, _thought_ you knew) that you hatched with the youngest brood on this sweep’s recruitment lists, a fact you received courtesy of another mutant asshole who you at one point (that is, about eleven seconds ago) believed to be something resembling your friend. He had claimed that this meant that the recruitment ships would not arrive until a night or two after your eighth Wriggling Day, at the earliest. Guess that was a crock of shit.

You spend a several long minutes staring up at the distant, faintly luminescent shapes, floating in a sea of disconnected but utterly enraged thought. Two sweeps ago, you might have started shouting or otherwise flipping out pointlessly. You’ve matured a lot in the interim.

Not that this makes you any less incoherently angry, of course, just quieter.

You finally manage to collect yourself and do the quick switch from retarded, time-wasting Past You to relatively sane Current You who understands that it’s really fucking stupid to stand around gawking like a wiggler when sickle-edged death is lurking, at most, a night or two away. You dash back into your hive, ignoring your lusus’s screech and ducking under his flailing claws. He snaps and hisses as you dart past, but you ignore him, closing and locking the reinforced door to the stairway behind you. You take the stairs three at a time as he pounds on it angrily. There’s no time for pointless custodial strife that he would need to calm down, and you don’t think you could make it through the goodbye that he deserves, anyway.

You leap up the last few steps into your room and hurl yourself into your chair, waking your computer from its inactivity with a few pounds at the keyboard. Trollian pops up with a cheery ping and you only just resist the urge to smash your speakers for the unwarranted gleefulness of their greeting. A quick glance over your trollslum confirms your pessimistic expectations: only four of your contacts are online, and there’s no way in hell Vriska or the hemofascist are going to be helpful.

You move your cursor over the third illuminated name on the list and let it hover there for a few seconds, black on teal.

...

Nah. Fuck it. No way she’d help you, either, personal ... arrangements or no. Probably just spend the whole time doing her weird legislacerator crap or completely refuse to take you seriously and spend the whole time trying, for the millionth time, to ferret out your blood color or something. You might as well get this over and let him know that you’ve finally figured out what he did.

> carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]
> 
> CG: SOLLUX CAPTOR  
> TA: oh hey KK, what2 up?  
> CG: UH UH. NO. FUCK YOU, YOU TRAITOROUS BASTARD. YOU DON’T GET TO SAY THAT LIKE WE’RE STILL FRIENDS OR SOMETHING.  
> TA: what?  
> CG: OH COME ON. I MIGHT NOT HAVE YOUR FREAKISH, TWO-TONE, OCULAR BULLSHIT, BUT I DO HAVE A WORKING SET OF EYES. HOW LONG DID YOU REALLY EXPECT THIS TO CARRY ON AFTER THE SHIPS ARRIVED?  
> TA: 2hiip2?  
> TA: what the fuck are you talkiing about?  
> TA: your wriiggliing day ii2nt for liike another full 2ea2on.  
> CG: HA FUCKING HA.  
> CG: WHAT, DID YOU DO THIS AS A JOKE OR SOMETHING? MABYE YOU THOUGHT YOU’D PLAY A TRICK ON THE DIM-WITTED PATSY WHO THOUGHT YOU WERE HIS FRIEND? IS THIS ABOUT MY BLOOD, OR WHAT?  
> CG: I JUST DON’T  
> CG: WHATEVER. IT DOESN’T MATTER.  
> CG: WELL DONE, I GUESS. SPIDERBITCH WOULD BE ENVIOUS AT THE FINESSE OF YOUR BETRAYAL, YOU TWISTED ASSHOLE.  
> TA: okay two things.  
> TA: fiir2tly ii have no iidea about any of thii2 2hiit youre 2pewiing, ii diidnt do anythiing two you and ii dont care about your blood color.  
> TA: 2eriiou2ly ii thought we dealt wiith thii2 2weep2 ago.  
> TA: 2econdly the 2hiip2 2houldnt be here for another uh 2iixty one niight2, ii ju2t checked liike a miinute ago.  
> CG: REALLY?  
> TA: ye2 really, maybe more liike two miinute2 ii gue22.  
> CG: THAT ISN’T WHAT I MEANT.  
> CG: BUT, OKAY, NEVER MIND. JUST DO ME A FAVOR, THEN. GO OVER TO THE WINDOW, LOOK UP AT THE SKY, AND TELL ME THAT I’M HALLUCINATING.  
> TA: you know ii cant 2ee the 2ky from any of my wiindow2.  
> TA: and why 2hould ii do anythiing for you anyway?  
> TA: ii mean ii thought ii had weiird mood 2wiing2 but youre beatiing me pretty ea2iily there all of a 2udden.  
> CG: FINE, I’LL APOLOGIZE IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER, BUT JUST GET UP TO THE ROOF OF YOUR WEIRD, STACKED-GRUBCAKE-STYLE HIVE AND TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE.  
> TA: that2 a pretty 2hiitty apology.  
> CG: YEAH, WELL, TOO BAD. IF I LIVE TO THE END OF THE PERIGEE, I MIGHT GIVE YOU A BETTER ONE, BUT I DON’T SEE EITHER OF THOSE THINGS HAPPENING.  
> TA: ii 2tiill dont know what youre 2o worriied about.  
> TA: TZ told me about that tiime 2he got you two flarp wiith her, 2he 2aiid you diid really well and 2he doe2nt iimpre22 ea2iily.  
> CG: UGH. AND HERE I WAS, THINKING THAT YOU COULDN’T POSSIBLY DO ANYTHING THAT WOULD MAKE WAITING FOR DEATH AT THE HANDS OF THE RECRUITERMINATORS ANY MORE UNPLEASANT, BUT THERE YOU GO, EXCEEDING MY EXPECTATIONS ONCE AGAIN.  
> CG: ANYWAY, WE BOTH KNOW THAT DOESN’T COUNT.  
> TA: ii wa2 ju2t tryiing two make you feel better.  
> CG: YEAH, CONGRATULATIONS, MY EXPANDING AND CONTRACTING CIRCULATORY MUSCLE IS SUFFUSED WITH JOY AND CONFIDENCE AT THE REMINDER OF MY OWN UNMATCHED BRILLIANCE AND SKILL.  
> CG: NOW GET UP TO YOUR ROOF AND TELL ME WHAT YOU SEE.  
> TA: fiine, thii2 better be worthwhiile KK.

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Well, that was ... actually sorta reassuring, in its own way. Obviously, you’re still going to die, probably rather horribly, but at least it won’t be due to a betrayal, just incompetence. You can live with that.

Die with that.

Whatever.


	2. Chapter 2

**> Be the other mutant.**

... You’re just fishing for trouble, aren’t you?

You are now SOLLUX CAPTOR and you REALLY DISLIKE STAIRS.

Normally, you’d just fly up top, but the last time you did that, some douchebag threw a rock at you. He missed, but you managed to chip a tooth and scrape yourself up pretty badly when you dodged into the side of your hive stem. You hunted the asshole down and made him pay, but decided not to risk having to go to all that trouble this time.

You’re starting to regret that decision. At least you only have one more level to go, and, you remind yourself, you can get a two-for-one and feed your lusus some mind honey while you’re up here. Mind honey which you left in a jar on the counter in your nutriblock. Goddammit.

Well, fuck going back down and up again, now. You’ll take care of it later. You jog up the last four steps, legs aching, and shoulder open the hatch to the roof.

An eye-searing flash of light greets you, temporarily blinding you despite the protective red and blue of your glasses. For a moment, you figure that you just died, as it’s dark and you aren’t hearing the boom that should have accompanied anything that bright. But, no, your feet are still on the two tops steps below the roof and you can detect the familiar, organic stench of rotting corpses wafting up from street-level, along with an odd, acrid scent.

Your vision returns slowly, and, given what it shows you, you almost wish it didn’t. It’s something from out of one of your worst visions: trails of fire streak across the sky in long, lazy arcs. Far above you, the blue and silver of a ship tumbles apart in slow-motion, splintering outwards like a shattered skull piñata. It looks so tiny, but you’ve read the (stolen) specifications for those transport vessels: not even the oldest and smallest of them are less than a mile long.

Your iGrub buzzes at you from inside of your sylladex and you fumble to dig it out.

...

Huh, that’s funny, you don’t remember joining any memos.

>   
> fleetCommand [FC] opened a public memo on board Alternian Information Networks
> 
> FC: Good evening, former citizens of the Alternian Empire!  
> FC: I am Fleet Admiral Frederick Joseph Harley-Hass, and I greet you as a friend, in much the same manner, in fact, in which your Empress greeted the settlers on the first colony of ours she encountered.  
> FC: Firstly, allow me to ask you to not to close or otherwise attempt to avoid this message.  
> FC: Our boys and gals down in InOps did a lot of hard work crossing the technological and linguistic divides and compromising important communication servers to ensure that this would get to every individual with an appropriate device (which I hope is rather a lot of you) and it’d be quite rude to ignore all of their effort!  
> FC: Secondly, let me give you fair warning: as you may or may not have noticed, we are currently in the process of destroying the transport ships in orbit around your planet.  
> FC: While we are attempting to minimize the collateral damage, the size and number of ships means that some of you may be in significant danger, quite soon.  
> FC: If we believe that you will be in the path of any major debris, we will send you an individual warning.  
> FC: For the rest of you, please remain in your homes until further notice.  
> FC: We want to minimize the chaos of this transitional period, but we will need your help to make everything go as smoothly as possible!  
> FC: Thank you for your attention, and please do feel free to pass this information on to any friends or acquaintances of yours who you believe might not have an appropriately configured device!
> 
> FC closed memo.

You stare at the small, glowing screen for a few seconds, trying to make some sense of what you just read. How did the greenblood manage to get you into that memo, anyway?

...

And what the fuck is a “home?”


	3. Chapter 3

**> Be someone who understands.**

You are now FEFERI PEIXES and you are a bit UPSET.

Usually, you try to focus on the positive and stay upbeat, but your life’s work, a full eight sweeps of usurpation plans, has just done its last lap around the metaphorical sink and disappeared down the drain. In addition to this, you think that you may be facing the extinction of your entire species.

Two and a half seasons ago, you received word from one of your more highly-placed contacts that the Honored Council of High Commandecimators had lost contact with the Empress’s ship and had subsequently ordered him to assemble a full battle fleet to investigate. Unsurprisingly, this piece of news excited you a great deal, as it meant that the Imperial Throne might now lie vacant, yours for the taking. Still, you had taken the practical step of asking him to not botch the investigation, but to report back to you before reporting to the Council.

You never heard back from him again.

You attempted to follow up on it with your other allies and instead got confused, contradictory reports of some sort of massive conflict raging across the Empire. One by one, your contacts stopped trolling you, leaving you unable to exert your influence or even get a clear idea of ongoing events.

Four nights ago, you finally heard back from one contact that had not communicated with you in perigees. She hastily explained that, to the best of her knowledge, she was the highest-ranking imperial officer still alive and had just ordered the remainder of all fleets, including logistics, supply and recruitment ships, back to Alternia to stage a last-ditch defense attempt.

Twelve minutes ago, you received a pre-programmed message which explained that its sending had been triggered by imminent system failure on her ship. In it, she apologized for her failure and expressed regret that she would never have the opportunity to serve under you. For the first time in your life, you had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Now, reading the invader’s memo (and probably taking it more seriously than anyone else on Alternia), you quickly form a plan in your head. You have no idea what effect it will have, if any, but it is your duty as Heir Apparent to represent your people and, as possible, improve their lot. First, though, you’ll need to figure out a way to talk to that Harley individual.

Unfortunately, your last technically-inclined contact stopped responding twelve nights ago. Unless, of course, you count that mutant yellow blood who wanted to program that game a sweep or two back. Glubbing hell, talk about a long shot, but, really, what other choice do you have?

You shut off the account that you’re currently using, one of many that you created to slightly reduce the odds of someone tracking your machinations back to you, and log onto cuttlefishCuller. Much to your relief, twinArmageddons’s icon glows like burnished gold, and you give it a quick double-tap. Only after you’ve opened the chat window do you realize you can’t, for the life of you, remember his name. Oops.

>   
> cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling twinArmageddons [TA]
> 
> TA: hello?  
> 

Oh goddammit. Why can’t you remember his name? Well, you better take a shot at it before he decides to block you.

>   
> CC: )(ello. You’re Mr. Castor, correct?   
> TA: what?  
> TA: no, look iim pretty bu2y at the moment.  
> TA: go bother 2omeone el2e.   
> CC: Wait, don’t you remember me? You programmed a game that we were going to play toget)(er wit)( like a dozen other trolls, two sweeps ago.   
> TA: oh god, diid you really have two briing that up?  
> TA: ii have better thiing2 two do than 2iit around and be remiinded of my faiilure2.   
> CC: WAIT! PL-EAS-E! I R-E-ELY N-E-ED YOUR )(-ELP! I’ll PAY!   
> TA: oh?  
> TA: how much?   
> CC: ANYT)(ING! Name your price and it’s yours!   
> TA: eheheh how about my weiight iin gold?   
> CC: Done!   
> TA: really?   
> CC: Absolutely! I )(earby give my word as )(eir Apparent that you WILL receive your payment! 38)  
> CC: IF you can get the job done, obviously.  
> CC: First, t)(oug)(, you did get added to t)(at memo, correct?   
> TA: uh whiich memo?  
> TA: the one wiith the green blood iin iit?   
> CC: Y-ES! I need you to get me a connection to )(im!   
> TA: oh.   
> CC: Oh?   
> TA: well iive been workiing on ju2t that for a couple of miinute2 now, tracing him that ii2.  
> TA: but ii havent gotten very far, iit2 liike he2 actually off planet or 2omethiing.   
> CC: T)(at’s because )(e is.   
> TA: youre takiing thii2 pretty 2eriiou2ly for a random memo arent you?  
> TA: ii mean iid thiink that youd be more worriied about the 2hiip2 gettiing blown up iin orbiit.   
> CC: OF COURS-E I’M WORRI-ED ABOUT T)(AT! 38(  
> CC: But I can’t do anything about it right now!  
> CC: If you can get me a connection to the )(arley person, then I might!   
> TA: ok whatever, iill let you know iif and when ii fiigure thii2 out.
> 
> twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]  
> 

You really, really hope that this will work. Still, no need to worry about it while you wait. You push yourself out of your seat and swim alongside a small cluster of cuttlefish on the opposite side of your room, glubbing at them idly to pass the time.

Less than five minutes later, Trollian chirps at you. Well, either he gives up too easily, or he works admirably fast. You assume the latter (because, really, you can’t bear to consider the possibility you’d be helpless in this dire of a situation).

Okay, you can do this. Authoritative but not demanding, pleasant but not weak, and absolutely, positively no fish puns. You take a deep breath and answer him.

>   
> twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]
> 
> TA: okay iive got a liine up but dont expect iit two la2t long unle22 you can talk them iinto leaviing iit open.  
> TA: whoever iit ii2 know2 theiir 2tuff, theyve almo2t 2hut me out once already.
> 
> twinArmageddons [TA] expanded the message into a private memo on board a2 reque2ted.
> 
> twinArmageddons [TA] added fleetCommand [FC] to the memo.
> 
> TA: there you go.  
> FC: Well!  
> FC: This is quite interesting.  
> FC: Hoisted by our own petard, I understand!  
> FC: Now, what can I do for you ladies and/or gentlemen?  
> FC: Or, perhaps more accurately, can you explain to me why I shouldn’t just ignore you until our information security folks shut you down?  
> CC: Yes, I think that I can.  
> CC: My name is Feferi Peixes, and as the )(eir Apparent and, in my predecessor’s absence, de facto -Empress of the Alternian -Empire, I would like to know what, exactly is going on above my planet and request the opportunity to negotiate surrender terms with your forces.  
> TA: WHAT?!  
> CC: B-E QUI-ET! I KNOW W)(AT I’M DOING!  
> FC: I’m not sure that you do.  
> FC: Your predecessor is indirectly responsible for the deaths of over nine hundred million human civilians and nearly two hundred million Solar Coalition personnel, in addition to the estimated fourteen point eight billion Alternian casualties.  
> FC: In addition to that, we stopped offering surrender terms after the fourth time your commanders used that as a ruse to slaughter our troops and support personnel, and, even if we did, I have absolutely no reason to trust any authority you claim to have.  
> FC: Lastly, my adjutant has just informed me that we finally got a handle on your computer-savvy friend, here.  
> FC: As such, I wish you both a good evening.
> 
> FC closed memo.  
> 
> 
>   
> 

...

Glub.


	4. Chapter 4

**> Feferi: Deal with the whiner**

What whiner? Eridan isn’t even onl- Oh. Him.

> twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]
> 
> TA: what the fuck wa2 that?!  
> TA: 2eriiou2ly do NOT tell me that you a2ked for my help ju2t two FUCKIING 2URRENDER!  
> CC: I really don’t )(ave time to explain t)(is to you, rig)(t now.  
> CC: T)(ank you for your )(elp, and I’ll see that you get your reward, assuming you survive to collect it.  
> TA: oh HELL no.  
> TA: you owe me the two 2econd2 that iitll take you two tell me what the fuck ii2 goiing on!  
> TA: hone2tly iit2 not liike iim one of tho2e propaganda addiict2 but what the fuck were you thiinkiing?!  
> TA: there2 a rea2on we dont ju2t liive and let liive and iif iim not confu2iing thiing2 iit ju2t fiinii2hed blowiing up the entiire tran2port fleet!  
> TA: do you have any iidea how many troll2 were aboard tho2e 2hiip2?!  
> CC: No, I don’t know the exact numbers!  
> TA: youre 2uppo2ed to be the heiire22 and you dont even know that?!  
> TA: no wonder were 2o fucked!  
> TA: what about the re2erve fleet2, aren’t there 2uppo2ed two be liike a miilliion troll2 wiithiin quiick re2pon2e dii2tance2 of alterniia?!  
> TA: and liike four tiime2 that wiithiin a niight or two2 travel tiime?!  
> CC: Did you )(ear the greenblood?  
> CC: Fifteen billion is a LOT of trolls.  
> CC: You really t)(ink t)(at t)(ey would )(ave missed t)(ose fleets on the way )(ere?  
> TA: fuck iif ii know, that ii2nt my job.  
> TA: but iim pretty damn 2ure that iit wa2 your2!  
> TA: the empiire2 a biig place riight, dont you have 2omewhere el2e two pull people from?  
> CC: Look, I did w)(at I could, but I wasn’t -Empress w)(en this all )(appened.  
> CC: T)(ey cut all of the lines t)(at I )(ad.  
> CC: It doesn’t really matter if any of t)(e reserve s)(ips are still afloat, because I can’t R-EAC)( them.  
> TA: well yeah but.  
> TA: um.  
> CC: And even if I could, w)(o’s to say t)(at I wouldn’t just be luring them to t)(eir deat)(s?!  
> CC: So, really, it isn’t a matter of winning, at t)(is point. 38(  
> CC: It’s about losing as little as possible!  
> TA: oh well that 2ound2 liike a fanta2tiic iidea!  
> TA: couldnt you have at lea2t gone down wiith 2OME 2emblance of diigniity however fliim2y?!  
> CC: Look, I’m sorry t)(at you disagree with me, but I’m not gonna just float around here and let you carp at me for attempting to fulfill my duties as best I can.  
> CC: -ESP-ECIALLY w)(en I could be doing some constructive instead of wasting my time swimming in circles about t)(is.  
> CC: Goodbye.
> 
> cuttlefishCuller [CC] has blocked twinArmageddons [TA]

You just sigh at the screen, not allowing yourself any further recognition of the irritation roiling around inside of you. How DARE he?! If you could get your fins on him, you would ... Okay, well, you’d probably just yell at him for being a jerk, but you’d be really tempted to do something more ... sea dweller-ish. Ugh. And worst of all, you’d probably have gotten that sort of response no matter who you went to for help.

Even Eridan wouldn’t understand, and you’ve spent the last seven-ish sweeps trying to get him to see the bigger picture. Not that you’d mind speaking to him, right now, because you know he’d take your side no matter what, if only to score some more red points, because if he thinks th-

Okay, no, this is stupid. You know that you can use your time more productively than you are now, just sitting around moping about how it’s hard and nobody understands. So what if you nobody believes you? So what if you don’t have any real authority or power anymore? So WHAT if it’s too late to save anyone?!

You’re going to, anyway. And you’re going to do it with a smile on your face.

 **> Feferi: Warn Your Friends**

Friends? You know like ... four people, tops, in this account’s trollslum. Plotting the overthrow of an intergalactic empire is, or, more accurately, _was_ hard work, and didn’t leave much time for anything else. Sure, Eridan had lured you into that game of his two sweeps ago, but that ship never sailed, and you haven’t really used this account since. Still, you probably should warn anybody that you can. Hmm, now, where to start? Maybe th-

Oh, look, Kanaya just came online. Never mind.

> cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]
> 
> CC: )(ey, Kanaya!  
> CC: )(ow’s your evening going?  
> CC: Or morning, for you, I suppose.  
> GA: Yes It Is Technically Morning  
> GA: Though The Sun Has Yet To Rise  
> GA: And As For Your Question I Would Admit To Being A Little Fatigued As I Awoke An Hour Ago And Then Could Not Get Back To Sleep  
> GA: Perhaps That Is For The Best Though As I Would Have Missed You Otherwise  
> CC: Yea)(! T)(at would )(ave been a problem!  
> CC: -Especially given what I need to tell you. 38(  
> GA: What Do You Mean  
> GA: Please Do Not Tell Me That Eridan Killed One Of His Kismesises  
> GA: Again  
> GA: Because I Am Quite Sure That I Have Warned You That If You Want Me To Intervene That I Require More Forewarning Than  
> GA: Glub Glub He Is Bleeding To Death And Eridan Has Once Again Committed Himself To The Extermination Of All Land-Dwelling Trolls  
> CC: T)(AT ISN’T )(OW IT W-ENT AT ALL!  
> GA: That Is Almost Exactly How You Alerted Me To The Fact That There Was A Problem   
> CC: I said I was sorry about that. 38(  
> CC: But, I’m actually not )(ere to talk about -Eridan.  
> GA: That Is Certainly A Pleasant Surprise  
> CC: )(ee )(ee!  
> CC: I know, rig)(t?!  
> CC: )(onestly, t)(oug)(, t)(e news I )(ave is even worse t)(an t)(at!  
> GA: I Wish That I Could Say In A Humorous Manner That I Have A Hard Time Imagining Any Such Thing  
> GA: But I Can Entertain Any Number Of Terrible Possibilities  
> CC: Well, um, )(ow about an alien invasion?  
> GA: That Was Not One Of The Ones I Had Considered No  
> GA: But  
> GA: If It Is Not Too Rude Of Me To Ask  
> GA: Is This Some Sort Of Attempt At Humor  
> GA: Because I Am A Bit Too Tired For Such Things Right Now  
> CC: No!  
> CC: I SW-EAR that I’m telling the truth.  
> CC: Or what I know of it, anyway.  
> GA: I Will Admit That Despite Your Assurances I Am Still Somewhat Skeptical About This Claim  
> GA: But Assuming For The Moment That I Believe You  
> GA: What Do You Recommend That I Do About It  
> CC: Not)(ing, really.  
> CC: But, w)(ale, t)(ey did destroy t)(e transport fleet, and t)(ose s)(ips are really big!  
> CC: And apparently, t)(ey’re providing warnings to anyone w)(o mig)(t be in danger from the falling debris via Trollian?   
> CC: I don’t really know, it was weird.  
> CC: The invaders, that is.  
> CC: And they )(ad a greenblood commanding t)(eir fleet, or somet)(ing?  
> CC: I mean, not t)(at t)(ere’s anyt)(ing wrong wit)( t)(at!  
> CC: But  
> GA: Feferi  
> CC: Yes?  
> GA: You Are Rambling  
> GA: And Also I Caught A Nautical Pun Up There  
> GA: Are You Going To Be Alright  
> CC: Um.  
> CC: Yes, I t)(ink so.  
> CC: I’m just  
> CC: I don’t know.  
> CC: I’m WORRI-ED, Kanaya!  
> CC: About you, and Gamzee, and, yes, even -Eridan!  
> CC: I mean, I’ll be fin.  
> CC: I )(ave like t)(ree miles of water between me and anyone w)(o wants to stir up trouble!  
> CC: Ug)(, just caug)(t t)(at.  
> CC: **Fine  
> GA: I Assure You That Eridan and I Can Both Take Care Of Ourselves  
> GA: I Understand Your Concern For Gamzee But He Has Somehow Survived The Predations Of The Native Fauna And His Fellow Highbloods For A Bit More Than Eight Sweeps So I Think He Will Scrape By Again Here  
> CC: )(e)(e, yea)(, okay.  
> GA: But Anyway I Think  
> GA: Oh  
> CC: W)(at?  
> GA: I Believe That I Have Just Received One Of Those Warnings You Spoke Of  
> GA: Make That  
> GA: Um  
> GA: Make That Five Now  
> CC: Well don’t just wait around!
> 
> grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]
> 
> CC: G-ET MOVING!
> 
> grimAuxiliatrix [GA] did not receive your message. Reason: Offline

...

>   
> CC: Kanaya?!
> 
> grimAuxiliatrix [GA] did not receive your message. Reason: Offline

No. No, this isn’t fair. This isn’t how it’s supposed to-

Okay, okay. Calm down. You can do this. Come on.

You suck in some water to distract yourself, letting the sharp chill run through your gills and settle around your vascular bladders. She’ll be fine. Yes. Just fine. Gotta warn the others.

> cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling centaursTesticle [CT]
> 
> CC: )(ello?
> 
> centaursTesticle [CT] is an idle troll.
> 
> CC: O)(.  
> CC: Ug)(.  
> CC: You better read t)(is w)(en you get back.

Feeling immensely useless, you start to type out “anyway, we’re being invaded” when another window pops to the fore.

> twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]
> 
> TA: you diid NOT ju2t try two block me, iim pretty 2ure about that.

Oh. Right. Hacker.

>   
> TA: becau2e iim PO2IITIIVE that you arent 2tupiid enough two try two fuckiing double cro22 me.   
> 

Well, you wouldn’t really put it that way, but, yeah, you don’t really have a good come back for that.

>   
> TA: iitd be bad enough iif that wa2 all but no you had two go and throw up your arm2 and beg for mercy!   
> TA: diid you ju2t thiink that iid let iit go that ea2iily?!   
> TA: ii gue22 youre ju2t two hiigh and miighty two u2e your 2hiitty waterlogged thiink pan huh?
> 
> roseLalonde [RL] expanded this message into a private memo on board “Intervention”
> 
> TA: what the fuck?!   
> RL: Regrettably, your presence is neither required for nor conducive to a polite conversation between myself and Ms. Peixes.   
> RL: Good evening.
> 
> roseLalonde [RL] banned twinArmageddons [TA] from responding to the memo.
> 
> CC: U)(.   
> CC: W)(at’s going on?   
> RL: Mr. Captor is enjoying the full attentions of the ISS Resolution’s InOps team.   
> RL: You shouldn’t have to worry about him for a good while.   
> CC: ... Okay ...   
> CC: But, well, w)(at I mean to ask is: w)(y?   
> RL: Probably the more important question here, yes.   
> RL: I’ll keep this short, as I’m working on plausible deniability for the most part.   
> RL: Simply put, the Admiral is a rather highly ranked public official.   
> RL: Every communication, decision and misplaced footfall of his is scrutinized by hundreds of powerful, self-important individuals and dozens of even more powerful organizations.   
> RL: Most of whom desire nothing more than an error on his part significant enough to justify removing him from his post.   
> RL: I, however, am subject to no such scrutiny, and so can work on his behalf to communicate with you.   
> RL: For what it’s worth, he asked me to apologize to you on his behalf for, and I quote, “the utterly abominable manner in which I dismissed that young lady.”   
> CC: I ... apology accepted, I guess?   
> CC: But t)(at doesn’t really answer my question.   
> RL: True enough.   
> RL: The Admiral is, by proxy, accepting your offer of surrender negotiations.   
> RL: However, the impersonal, electronically-delivered word of a stranger has very little significance to either him or me.   
> RL: I’m sure you can understand why.   
> CC: I do, yes.   
> CC: But t)(at just leads to anot)(er question.   
> CC: )(ow do I know t)(at you aren’t just trying to net me early on the off c)(ance t)(at I end up presenting some sort of t)(reat to you?   
> RL: We both know that I have literally nothing that I could offer you to prove that my intentions are benign.   
> RL: Though, in truth, I can’t conceive of any way in which you might threaten us.   
> CC: Then w)(y are you even speaking to me?   
> RL: Primarily because we aren’t interested in destroying your species, Ms. Peixes.   
> RL: If we were, we would have already done so.   
> RL: I am contacting you, specifically, because both the Admiral and I understand the significance of your hue.   
> RL: Such chromatic stratification fell out of favor centuries ago, but it has yet to be written out of history.   
> RL: So for those who know where to look, the context is there.   
> CC: )(u)(.   
> CC: Okay.

You hesitate for a few seconds, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What else is there to say? There’s no way in hell that she isn’t just baiting to your death. Do you really want to just throw yourself away like this, probably for nothing?

But what’s the other option? Hide down here until they get bored enough to fish you out? Curl up behind your recuperacoon and hope it just evaporates like some sopor-deprived daymare? Maybe if you did stay away, you could try to present yourself as a symbol of lingering Alternian defiance? ... As some anonymous highblood hiding away in hemospectrally-granted safety and comfort while her fellows squirm under the invader’s boots.

Yeah, that sounds pretty pathetic to you, too.

>   
> CC: I accept your offer.   
> RL: Excellent.   
> 

Things progress quickly from there. She gives you coordinates an easy twenty minute swim from your hive, and you promise to meet her in two hours. Plenty of time to warn the rest of the people in your trollslum.

You pull up the neglected chat box and stare at the dark blue name in it for a few seconds, trying to think of a way to explain the situation without sounding like some idiot fishing for cheap laughs-

Wait, what’s-

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC]

TA: 2urprii2e.

cuttlerfishCuller’s [CC’s] computer exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, as some of you may have figured out, I am in fact still alive. I have various excuses for why it took me so long to update, but they aren't particularly important. I _deeply_ apologize to everyone who read and enjoyed this, as there's nothing worse than a fanfic which just drops off of the radar for no reason. However, for what it's worth, I should have another chapter out tomorrow or the next day.
> 
> To those who commented on this, thank you and I love you all. Your feedback is absolutely delightful. As always, I welcome anyone who would like to criticize or comment.
> 
> And again, thank you to Ether, as I wouldn't have made it this far without her. Her beta-reading and criticism has helped me immensely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter contains some violence. It's fairly mild, but I promised that I would add warnings as necessary. Accordingly, I have switched the rating to "Teen."

**> Be the idle troll.**

You are now EQUIUS ZAHHAK and you are far too STRONG to be killed by SEVERAL TONS OF FALLING STONE.

However, as you discovered an unknown amount of time ago, you are not too STRONG to be knocked unconscious by said quantity of stone.

You wake slowly, in utter darkness and a moderate amount of pain (though not nearly enough to bother one of your noble standing). Initially, you attempt to orient yourself in the matters of up and down, but fail rather miserably. So, instead, you simply begin smashing your way through the rock all around you. After some period of time, you begin counting in your head as you shatter boulders with your fists and deflect falling rocks with your back, trying to keep some record of how long you’ve been down here. You reach a little over eight hundred before, with the latest in a series of miniature, you-induced rockslides, the absence of light gives way to a more normal dimness.

You claw the rest of the way to the surface and take stock of your surroundings. You are standing atop a massive pile of rubble situated between two even more massive but now partially-decapitated stone pillars–pillars which formerly supported you and your neighbor’s hives. Immediately, you realize what you forgot in your haste to make it to the surface: Aurthour.

You do not bother to measure the time you spent sifting the rubble, the rocks slowly blending together into a single, meaningless grey blur. You dig and rummage and smash, but no perfect white coat of lusus hair comes into view, nor do you even find smears of the refined, ultramarine blood that he shares with you. But you refuse to give up until you have found at least some trace of his existence; something with which you might remember his service.

However, even the mightiest of bodies and strongest of wills cannot work forever, and, in time, you settle against a cracked boulder to catch your breath, even if only for a moment. It is then that you hear the cackle of laughter, distant and infuriatingly familiar. Once you finish your quick break, you push yourself back to your feet and call out.

>   
> D --> Serket   
> D --> Is that you   
> D --> Do not tell me that you have come here to mock my loss   
> D --> I have tolerated many things from you, but if you cannot respect me even in this moment, I will strike you down   
> Hahahaha!   
> C8n’t catch a 8r8k!   
> 

You attempt to follow her voice, this time noting a certain edge to the laughter. It stops and starts erratically, interrupted by periods of not-quite-quiet filled with the clattering of pebbles disturbed by your footsteps. During one of these periods, you raise your voice again.

>   
> D --> Can you not hear me   
> 8uzz 8ff, Equius.   
> 

You almost jump in surprise at the apparent proximity of her voice. Still, you would not consider the exploitation of low-class circus tricks like ventriloquism beyond the reach of her debased nature, and so you carefully turn a full circle, scanning the cliffs and heaps of stone for her wiry form. When you take a cautious step to the left, however, she rewards you with a sharp yelp of pain.

>   
> You f8cking idi8t! 8e c8reful wh8re y8u w8lk!   
> D --> Oh goodness   
> D --> Am I to understand that you are buried   
> N8, of c8urse n8t! I fucking decid8d to wr8ggle down h8re and take a n8p!!!!!!!!   
> D --> Oh   
> D --> Well, do not worry   
> D --> I put my STRONGEST efforts into retrieving you   
> D --> It sh001d not take much time   
> J8st ........ go aw8y.   
> 

The command has so little force to it that you don’t even hesitate. Instead, you take a step back, lean down and begin carefully digging into the pile.

>   
> D --> Do not be 100dicrous   
> D --> I w001d not dishonor my b100d by leaving a fellow noble to die such an undignified death   
> D --> Not even one so uncouth and shameless as yourself   
> Wh8tev8r. You j8st w8nt to see my az8re on the t8lons of the c8lling dr8nes, you p8rvert8d 8lood f8tishist.   
> D --> You will not speak that way about me   
> D --> I am merely engaging in the prudent accumulation of favors, as you ought to learn to do   
> D --> And what reason w001d the drones have to cull you   
> D --> Is it the arm   
> D --> I thought that I had engineered it more soundly than that   
> 

You heft a massive chunk of masonry and toss it aside, then glance again, ready to select the next piece for removal. Instead, Vriska stares up at you, her face marred with bruises and cuts, streaked with azure and twisted with helpless fury.

  


>   
> Do I h8ve to sp8ll it 8ut for y8u, yo8 sick h8of8e8st f8cker?!   
> I me8n, I c8n alre8dy h8ar Ter8zi cackling a88ut it.   
> JUST R3TR18UT1ON FOR YOUR CR1M3S, S3RK3T!   
> 1 W1LL G1V3 YOU A F1FT33N M1NUT3 H34D ST4RT H3H3H3H3   
> D --> I was not aware that the tealblood offered advantages to her quarries   
> N8 sh8t! Wh8t the f8ck do you th8nk I’m t8lking a8out?!   
> I c8n’t f88l my f8ck8ng l8gs!!!!!!!!   
> S8 j8st g8 th8 f8ck 8w8y!!!!!!!!   
> 

You stare at each other for a few moments, then you make a little whistling noise through your broken teeth, one of a thousand nearly-identical triggers you engineered into her arm. She jerks slightly in surprise as it shoots directly upright. You whistle again and it locks into place.

>   
> D --> There   
> D --> I will pull you free using that arm so that I do not a%identally injure you   
> D --> Once I have finished removing the stones trapping your lower body, of course

You turn away from her, searching for the correct rock to remove first, but you can feel her glare on your back. However, instead of screaming at you again, she fumes in silence. You begin removing the rocks entombing her lower half, pretending that you are disassembling a malfunctioning robot. The idea calms you a bit, and you even manage to push the thought of your missing lusus from your mind.

Pebbles or boulders, smooth or rough, chipped or whole, it matters not: you clear them all away. Upon finally dislodging the last sizable rock, you climb back up the pile, trying not to start another rockslide and re-entomb Vriska. You grab ahold of her arm and haul her loose, prompting a snarl of discomfort.

> D --> Compose yourself, Serket   
> D ---> If I can dig both you and myself out of the rubble without complaining, you can do the same   
> Y8ah, ye8h.   
> Sh8ve 8t up yo-   
> 

The weak insult dies in her throat and her eye widens slightly, peering over your shoulder. You turn instinctively, accidentally knocking her against a recently-dislodged boulder and prompting another expletive from your cargo.

>   
> D ---> My apologi-   
> 

Now it’s your turn: you choke down the instinctive apology as you spot the pack of shining, black forms climbing their way up the pile of stone, moving in near-silent coordination. You almost mistake them for Imperial Drones, but a second glance reveals discrepancies: the odd, tubular attachments beneath their forearms, the extreme stockiness of their frames and the angular markings across their arms and shoulders, just to name a few.

>   
> CHILDREN. OCCUPYING CRASH SITE. PLEASE REMAIN. WILL ASSIST.   
> 

The voice echoes up the pile towards you, harsh and synthetic. Whoever or whatever it is, it isn’t doing a very good job of speaking Alternian. (It even failed to attach an age-suffix to “children.” How would you even interpret that? “They who do not fight,” perhaps? Ridiculous.)

You think for a moment as they climb closer still, then, as gently as you can, lay Vriska against a rock and take up a fighting pose. The approaching creatures don’t hesitate, and one of them even raises an open palm towards you, as though in a placating manner.

>   
> CHILD. CALM. WILL-   
> 

You hit the first one as hard as you can as it crests the boulder beneath you. It flies it straight off the rubble heap and slams into the side of one of the partially-ruined pillars. The thing hits with a dull, metallic clang and tumbles down the cliff wall limply. Excellent. You’re used to fighting robots.

However, rather than rush you, the remaining ones back up several feet. One of them bends down, its hand brushing its side as it does, and picks up a small rock. It raises its hand towards you and gently tosses the small, grey object to you. Instinctively, you catch it, only to realize that it isn’t the right shape or texture. Confused, you glance down towards the object in your hand.

That’s a mistake.

It is the single loudest and brightest thing you have ever seen or heard. You crush the cylinder and hurl it away, but the damage has been done. Your vision flashes and strobes uselessly and you stumble, suddenly unable to tell up from down. You gasp for breath, only for the air to sting and burn in your lungs. You double over, coughing and wheezing as you accidentally inhale more of the poisoned air.

You don’t fall, though, not yet. Even unable to draw breath, your prodigious strength does not abandon you. You lunge forward, but your blows strike only air and, head spinning, you overbalance. You land heavily, and the pile gives way beneath you, sending you tumbling downhill in a shower of jagged rock. You finally come to a stop, blind, deaf, and half-buried in stone.

It all hurts a great deal, but only distantly so.

Then, blissfully, you feel nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I made it within the 48 hour timeline that I mentioned in the last note. Whoopie.
> 
> I'll attempt another chapter within the week, but I make no promises, as the chapter I'm working on now is only partially complete and utterly unedited. As always, thank you to my readers and I hope you enjoy!


End file.
